Into a Nightmare
by Major Sid
Summary: Berry and Rebecca are caught in the nightmare of Raccoon city with a cop, a civilian, a kid, and a converted UBCS merc.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or its characters. I am just writing this story for the fun of it. Any reference to other characters or stories is purely to add to the environment of the story and is not meant to steal others work.

Author: The idea for this story come about several years ago and has been on the back burner for a while. This story is planned to be the first story in an at least three story series. I got the idea when I saw the lack of stories in reference to what Rebecca and Barry were doing at the time of the outbreak in Raccoon City. Please read this story, enjoy it and review. I write well but I can always improve.

Into A Nightmare

Raccoon City

2359

Sept. 22, 1998

"Unit 129, Dispatch. Report of a robbery in progress. Address is 34 Maple Av. Advise response time."

"Dispatch, Unit 129. Responding to scene. Any info on the situation," said Gregory Paterson into the mike. He was 26 with a brown eyes and hair. His five foot eleven frame was filled with toned muscles and a sharp mind. Greg was a 4 year veteran of the RPD.

"Advise, possible one suspect on premises. Suspected armed and dangerous."

"Copy. ETA is one minute," said Greg before he set the mike in its cradle. Looking over at his partner he joked, "Looks like were going to break your call cherry."

"Yeah, I guess," was all that Nick could say. His knuckles were turning white from gripping the steering wheel. He was 21 and had only been a cop for a week. Sweat was staining his armpits.

"That's the spirit," encouraged Greg. He knew that Nick was scared. He was too but he knew how to concur it after years of service in the RPD as well as the Marines. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his nerves. He reached down and checked his VP-70, the RPD's new issue handgun. Unlike other officers he carried his pistol cocked and locked, ready to go. Looking up from the check, he saw that they were almost there. Pulling the mike from its cradle, Greg brought it to his mouth.

"Unit 129, on scene," he said as Nick stopped the car. Greg opened his door and took cover behind it, drawing his pistol in the process. Nick did a similar maneuver on the other side. After checking the area, he motioned for them to move up.

Advancing toward the store, Greg noticed that all the windows were busted in. 'This guy is not at all concerned with subtlety,' he thought. Reaching the front of the store, he crouched below the windows, Nick miming him. Raising his head above the rim, he scanned the store. He heard a sound in the back that was reminiscent of someone forcing a door open.

"RPD. Come out with your hands up," yelled Greg into the store. Inside he heard the sound of heavy boots trying to move stealthily. Nodding to his partner, he entered the store with his pistol raised. He saw that all the isles led to the back of the store. Motioning for Nick to stay by the door, he started to move laterally along the isles.

Two quick flashes followed rapidly by two loud cracks filled the store. Greg fell onto his back, his chest radiating with pain from the two slugs lodged in his vest. He quickly recovered, bringing his pistol to bear on the dark shape. He started to pull the trigger when the figures gun erupted three times.

Nick gave a cry and fell to the ground. Greg let out a scream of rage as the trigger released the hammer, firing a police issue 9mm cartridge. Three followed the first in rapid succession as they passed into the figure, cutting into his chest and head. The man fell to the ground with as much life as a bag of nails.

Hearing a gurgling sound coming form a short distance away, Greg thought to check on his partner. Rolling onto his hands and knees, he crawled over to Nick. Reaching him, his blood ran cold. The vest had stopped two of the bullets but the third had pierced Nick's throat. Blood was gushing from the wound and seeping from his mouth.

'Shit,' thought Greg as he pressed his left hand on the wound. Nicks left hand grabbed Greg's arm. There was a pleading look in his eyes. Reaching for his mike on his shoulder, Greg pressed the talk button.

"Unit 129, Officer down! Officer down!"


	2. Chapter 2

Author: More character development and some back story. Sorry it took so long with this post.

Raccoon City College

0539

Sept. 23, 1998

The phone ringing next to her head woke her from a happy dream. Opening her eyes, she reached for the phone. Bringing the receiver to her head, she said into it "Hello?"

"Hay there Linda. How are ya," said a familiar voice on the other end of the line. In her waking stupor she remembered that it was her boyfriend, Dan.

"Dan, what time is it," asked Linda, looking for her clock.

"It's 5:40. There's something I need to talk to you about something."

"It's too early for this. I've got classes and work for the next two days solid."

"I really want to talk to you, Linda."

"Fine, be that way. When I get done with my work I'll meet you at McCoy's. Make that nine tomorrow. That suit you," she asked, losing patience with him.

"I'll be there," Dan answered.

"See you then," finished Linda. She hung up before he could say anything else. _What a jerk_ she thought.

Glancing around the room she noticed that it was starting to get brighter. Looking over at her alarm clock she saw that it was almost ready to go off. She did not fell like going back to sleep after the call. _Might as well go for a run_ she thought. Quietly rising from her bed, she quickly changed into her running clothes. Looking over her shoulder at her roommate as she came to the door, she saw a bit of drool come out of the corner of her mouth. _Damn her and her sleeping pills _she thought, exiting the room.

Raccoon Police Department

0607

Sep. 23, 1998

A loud bang from the lockers startled the watch sergeant. Going to investigate, he found Officer Paterson sitting on the bench in his spare uniform, his previous one and his sidearm being at the RPD CSI. There was also a fresh dent in his locker. The sergeant moved into the locker room to see what was going on. He did so while making some noise as to not surprise Greg. Upon noticing the sergeant, Greg looked directly at him.

"I'm sorry to hear about Nick. He was a good kid," said the sergeant.

"I'll tell his family that at his funeral," growled Greg

"Hey. No need to get hostile," he said defensively.

Greg looked at him, then back down at his feet. "I got him killed. He was my responsibility and I failed. I plan to go to his family and offer for them to do as they want to me," he said, sounding very depressed.

The watch sergeant did not know what to do. Greg was one of the best officers in the RPD. He was usually not very social but now he sounded downright defeated. It would not do to have one of the RPD's best in such sad shape.

"Greg, tell you what. I am going to give you a week off," said the sergeant.

"I thought that Irons was revoking all leaves and holidays," inquired Greg, now looking at the sergeant.

"Well, I never really liked the guy. And I have a few tricks up my sleeve," he said as he got up and moved to the door. "Consider the next seven days yours." With that he was out the door.

Left alone, Greg decided to get going. He opened his locker and was surprised when an envelope fell out. Leaning down and picking it up, he saw that it was addressed to him and it was from the personnel section. Ripping the envelope open, he removed a single sheet of paper. He read:

To Patrolperson 1st Class Patterson;

I thank you for submitting your application to the SWAT/S.T.A.R.S. section. I am sorry to say that current freezing of all positions in the RPD for an indefinite period of time has resulted in the rejection of your application. I apologize for this and hope that this will not interfere with you upholding the traditions of the RPD.

Regards'

Arthur Hughman

Captain, RPD Personnel Office

Greg read over the letter twice. _Why_ me, he thought. In a fit of anger he balled up the paper and threw it towards the trash bin. With this insult Greg decided that he needed to go out. He quickly changed into his civvies. One of the last things that he removed from the locker was a shoulder holster.

Inside it was one of his few mementos of his past. The pistol was a Colt Series 80 .45. It had been a present to him from an old friend when he graduated basic at Parris Island. It had custom walnut grips and a custom barrel. He slid this out of its holster to check it.

With a deft movement he jacked the slide back to check the chamber. Seeing it clear, he put a magazine into the grip and jacked the slide. With this done he looked at the blued finish of the gun, thinking. With a shrug he put the safety on and secured it in the shoulder holster.

Putting on a light coat to stop the early morning chill and cover his rig, he rose to leave. On the way out he passed several officers and gave his greetings. As he passed the watch sergeant he gave a wave and passed out of the doors.

Raccoon Suburb

0700

Sep. 23, 1998

Running out the door, Kevin Anderson clutching his backpack in one hand and his lunch in the other, ran toward the school bus. Halfway to the bus he heard his mother calling to him. Turning around he saw her hold up one of his schoolbooks.

Running back to his mother, Kevin grabbed the book and stuffed it into his schoolbag. His mother reached down and gave a hug before he could get away.

"I love you so much," she said to her son and gave him a kiss on the head.

"Me too," he said as he escaped his mothers grasp.

Running back to the bus, he knew he would catch the rear end of a lot of jokes that day. Kids did not think it cool that his mom loved him so much. He regretted he shows of affection.

Looking down the street before he entered the bus, Kevin saw a young woman jogging down the street. She looked similar to one of the people he had seen on the news during the summer. Some of those reports had disturbed him. Turning back to the bus, he thought no more about it.

**Author Notes**: Now everyone is caught up to my writing. This is my latest complete section. More will follow, hopefully soon.


	3. Chapter 3

A.N.: Sorry about the inconsistent posts. I am a slow writer when it comes to personal writing. Again, sorry about the wait and I hope that you enjoy and comment on my writing.

Raccoon Suburb

0710

Sep. 23, 1998

The cool fall morning allowed her to clear her mind as she jogged down the street. The summer had given her a lot to think about. She still saw the images in vivid detail when she slept, frequently waking her with her own screams in a cold sweat. Her only comfort was that her friends were safe.

Rebecca turned onto a street that had become familiar over the last two months. She still missed Billy, her companion and protector for that long night, the only person that she could say that she had any emotional bond to. The dog tags that he had given her were still on her neck.

Bringing herself back to reality, she saw that she had almost reached her destination. It was a simple ranch house with a two car garage. In the front yard was a flagpole with the stars and stripes hanging lazily. The yard looked like it had not seen serious attention in months.

Slowing to a walk at the start of the driveway, she went up to the front door and knocked. A few muffled thumps signaled the presence of someone inside. Seconds later came the sound of a deadbolt being released and the door swung open. The face that peered out of the opening was filled with weary and the sign of restless nights. Upon seeing her, the unshaven face brightened with a surprised smile.

"Rebecca, good to see you here," said Barry, somewhat surprised to see her so early. Since Jill and Chris had gone off on their own escapades and Brad had disappeared, they were the only two survivors who stayed in touch any. He wished that they would call like his family did.

"Hey, Barry. Can I come in," Rebecca asked. She noticed that in his right hand, unsuccessfully hidden behind his thigh, he held his Colt Anaconda. If it had not been her at the door, the person might have been laid out on the landing either dead or restrained. Barry had told here what Wesker had said about his family and it had obviously shaken him.

"Yeah, sure," he said, moving out of the opening. As Rebecca passed by him into the house, he could not help but notice how she had changed since the incident at the mansion. She had become more physically active, making her body a little leaner and quite a bit stronger. _She could probably match Jill now_ he thought. He saw that she was wearing her fanny pack that she kept the little PPK he had given her in. _Good girl_ he thought.

"Can I get you anything," he asked her as they entered the living room.

"A glass of water would be nice," she answered, seating herself on his couch.

"Sure. Be right back," he said, heading into the kitchen. When he returned with two glasses he saw a worried look on her face.

"What's up, Beca," he asked as he set the glasses down and seated himself next to her.

"Have your dreams been getting worse over the last several days," she asked flatly looking directly at him.

"What are you talking about," he said, a bit surprised at her question.

"You know what I mean," she rebuffed softly.

"Unfortunately, I do," he said, his mood darkening. "They have been getting worse. They are filled with more zombies, more of those freaks, more dead friends. All of it."

"Same here," she said, now starring at nothing in particular. "I'm worried that something is going to happen. It scares me. I feel that if something were to happen, that we would be unprepared for it."

"Hey, don't worry. What ever come, we'll be ready for it," Barry said, trying to cheer her up.

"You think?"

"You bet. Now do you want a ride back to your place," he asked, getting up.

"Sure. I don't feel like running back right now," she said.

"Great. Let me get the keys," he said. She nodded her thanks and went to the garage. He got his keys and as he headed to the door he thought _Will we be ready._

Location Unknown/ UBCS Base, Small Arms Range

0930

Sep. 23, 1998

The mechanical chatter of the PKM surprised several of the shooters using the range. The short bursts sent their thunderous reports throughout the shooting enclosure, temporarily deafening some of the personnel. The machinegun roared on till the belt ran dry. Looking through the 2x optical sight, the operator saw a collection of saucer sized groups. He grinned at the sight of his still great aim.

"Why the hell do you use that beast," asked one of the shooters.

"Because no one else has the balls to carry it," he answered, his Russian accent getting through as he cleared his weapon.

"Well what happens when you run out of ammo for it," said another mercenary, this one with a whiney voice.

"I have just four things to point out to you. One, I carry more ammo on me then any of you. Two, she is slower then the SAWs, and three, the rounds are heavier, meaning I have to shoot less and use less ammo in the long run," he said. Looking directly at the whiney one, he finished "And when I finally do run out of ammo, I'll pull the rifle off your half eaten corpse!"

The last remark made the guy back off and disappear. The other man lost interest and turned back to his own shooting. The gunner made a quick smile and went back to work on his machine gun.

Greg's Apartment, Raccoon City

1000

Sep. 23, 1998

Greg entered his apartment, swiftly closing the door behind him. He dead bolted the door and shuffled the rest of the way into his place. Throwing his coat onto the kitchen table, he went straight to the bedroom. Clothes still on, he passed out onto his bed.


End file.
